My Two Dads
by Phoenix Donovan
Summary: When Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy lose their wives to a tragic accident, they are forced to wed for tax purposes, and Draco and Ron become stepbrothers. LuciusArthur, DracoRon.
1. Chapter 1

My Two Dads

A fanfiction by Phoenix Donovan

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One

When Arthur Weasley woke up that early July morning, pulled on his robes, and went downstairs to kiss his wife, Molly, on the cheek, he had no idea that it would be for the last time. When he sat down at the table to eat his breakfast alongside his sons and daughter (excluding Fred and George, who were still sleeping), waved good-bye, and headed outside to apparate to work, he didn't know that it would be the last time he would see his family this way. How was he supposed to know? How could he possibly have been forewarned?

Arthur arrived at work one minute before 7, passed a sign on the wall that said _Warning! Elevator temporarily out of order! Enter at your own stupidity!_, greeted his acquaintances ("Morning, Arthur!" said Mr. Bagman. "Morning, Ludo!"), and sat down at his desk, filing through his heavy load of papers of Misused Muggle Objects. He had to discharm a desk chair, remove the legs from a stapler, and contact someone about performing a Memory Charm on a few Muggles who had seen a couple of tactless teenagers flying around on their broomsticks over in Suri. By lunch time, he had done two of those three things, grunting discontentedly at the next flop of work that seemed to land on his desk every half hour. He stretched and leaned back in his chair, his stomach growling with hunger. Without hesitation, he smiled and tapped his stomach, stood up and went into the break room to grab some lunch that he had left in the icebox.

That's when Arthur Weasley saw the white-blonde ponytail of a certain Lucius Malfoy, and, grabbing his lunch quickly, planned to turn away and eat his lunch with Ludo; unfortunately, Lucius spotted him.

"Ah," said the silky voice. "Weasley senior."

Arthur mustered what he could of a grin and turned around, nodded curtly at Lucius, and turned away again.

"Going so soon?" Lucius said. "I was hoping you could teach me how to use this thing—" he kicked the icebox and Arthur lowered his brows in great dislike. "Does your family use one this size?"

"Excuse me?"

Lucius smiled maliciously. "I'm sure your wife cooks for you. I've never seen an icebox in my life—that's what happens when you have house elves to do the dirty work." He took a step forward, gazing into Arthur's bright blue eyes with his own cold gray ones. "But you Weasleys know all about being _dirty_, don't you?"

Arthur turned a dark red shade, shaking with anger by now.

"Don't you dare speak of my family," he hissed. He shook his head and took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper too horribly. Lucius was still standing calmly, a smug look on his face.

"What's going on, Arthur?" a voice came from behind him. He turned around, surprised, to see Molly standing there, a smile on her face, holding a basket that emitted a delicious smell.

"Molly!" he said, suddenly feeling much better. He grabbed her arm, and without another look in Lucius's direction, lead her to his desk. With a flick of his wand he cleared away the mess and they sat down together.

"What's this!" he said. Molly sighed and took the little bag of food he was holding, stuck her tongue out at it, and threw it in the trash.

"I was bring you a descent lunch," she said, pushing the basket at him and beginning to remove its contents, "because I knew you were going to end up eating that leftover curry sandwich…"

Arthur smiled with gratitude and leaned forward to kiss his wife before observing the treacle tart, meat pie, and pumpkin custard stew with glee. Ludo popped his head over the side of his cubicle and smiled down at the pair.

"Hello there, Molly!" Ludo said, beaming. "Mmm! Do I smell meat pie!"

"Yes you do, Ludo, here, I brought you some, too, I knew you'd be wanting it…" she said, handing him a piece.

"You shouldn't have—" Ludo said, but took the food all the same, winking at Arthur. "Wish she were my wife, Weasley!"

"Now, now," Arthur said, though he couldn't erase the grin off his face—that is, not until he saw a pair of white-blonde heads coming toward them—one being Lucius, as expected—the other his wife, the beautiful yet wicked Narcissa.

"I told you dear," Lucius said, his voice dripping with malicious amusement. "They sit and eat with their work, like a common Muggle…"

"Well what do you expect from a Muggle lover?" Narcissa said, smiling cruelly down at Molly. "But I expect her cooking must not be all bad…just look at her size…"

Arthur nearly knocked over the food as he stood up, his ears nearly steaming with anger, his fists clenched, his eyes locked on the Malfoys.

"Now, Arthur…" Molly muttered, pushing her food away and looking upset. "Just let it lie…"

Lucius's eyes twinkled. "Actually, Arthur, I needed to speak to you about something a bit…I daresay…important that concerns both of our departments."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Anything concerning Lucius's department couldn't be good, because after he had been sacked from the Board of Magical Education, he had been transferred to the Tasteless Taxable section (a bit of a joke around the office, if you asked most anyone, but nevertheless, Lucius took it seriously because he got to boss people around and whore them for money—something particularly cruel to do to a Weasley).

"It can't wait until after lunch?" Arthur asked, surveying Lucius incredulously.

"I'm afraid it can't."

Arthur sighed, smiling sympathetically at Molly.

"I understand, dear," she said, standing up. "I should be going. Fred and George might have blown up the house by now…"

"I have to be going too," Narcissa said, smiling slyly at Molly.

"Good then," Arthur said, taking a deep breath. "I suppose you can take the elevator together, then."

Molly patted her husband's arm. "It's all right dear, I'll see you tonight." She leaned in and the pair gave each other a small peck.

"See you later, dear."

Lucius watched Molly and Narcissa walk off together.

"Well…who ever heard of a good looking woman who can cook well?" Lucius asked.

"What exactly is it that you want, Lucius?" Arthur snapped. Lucius leaned on his cane.

"The Taxable office—"

"You mean the _Tasteless_ Taxable office?" Arthur growled.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "As I was saying. The Tasteless Taxable office is having a hard time balancing your record—something about a Muggle car being enchanted that hasn't been accounted for for some time now…causing a bit of a havoc around the office trying to credit your record…"

"So what do you propose I do?" Arthur asked. "The matter of Ford Anglia hasn't been mentioned in three years."

"Right," Lucius said. "That's how much work we have backed up for you. It just so happens that I am willing to strike a deal with you. If you remember clearly, which I'm not sure you're capable of, you might recall a little incident with an enchanted teapot that my son…er…ran a muck with last summer…"

"Yes, that cost us a pretty penny, hm?"

"Yes, well, be grateful it wasn't a personal expense then," Lucius replied coldly. "To be straight to the point—if you clear that off my profile, I'll clear the case of the Ford Anglia."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Are you that lazy?"

"No," Lucius said. "Irritated."

"Fine," Arthur sighed. "Do what you want. I'll try to get your little mishap cleared up."

Lucius lowered his brow, about to retaliate, when something terrible happened—a great explosion rang through the office, knocking both Lucius and Arthur off their feet.

"My God!" Arthur yelled. Lucius had turned a most unnatural shade of white (even for him) and both of them, along with the rest of the office, was staring over at the elevator.

"Molly!" Arthur cried, leaping to his feet.

"Narcissa!" Lucius gasped, crawling over to the heap of rubble. A couple of Ministry Officials were flicking desperately at the rubble with their wands, trying to uncover the mess.

"Molly…?" Arthur inquired, staring down the empty shoot. But all he could see was ash, dust, and a long, empty elevator shoot.

Molly and Narcissa were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

My Two Dads

A fanfiction by Phoenix Donovan

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. AU: no Order mentioned, among other things.

* * *

Chapter Two

Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy were officially proclaimed dead on July 5, 1995. Arthur had never felt more painfully catatonic; Ginny and Ron were in constant tears; Fred and George were silent with angry disbelief that clearly shown in their amber eyes; Charlie and Bill had come home straight at the news, and while Bill was steadily morose, Charlie's mood was borderline manic depressive, as one minute he was trying to bring light to the situation and the next he was on the kitchen floor in violent sobs. Even Percy seemed shaken and out of sorts, hardly speaking to anyone about anything (which, terrible as the situation was, worked to everyone's liking).

The funeral was to take place in two days, and Dumbledore had collected Harry and Hermione and taken them to the Burrow, partially upon their insistence, and partially because himself thought it would be a good day of bringing back a little normalcy to the youngest Weasley boy's life. When Harry and Hermione arrived, Ron had been on the floor trying, alongside his father, to lift a mourning Charlie to his feet.

"Now, now…" Arthur said in his calmest voice, taking hold of Charlie's shoulders. "Up you go…slowly now…no, not on the floor again, Charlie…_Charlie_! Now for Goodness sakes…"

"Don't be so hard on him," Ron mumbled, patting Charlie's back and letting his brother cry into his jeans. He looked up then, when he felt the pair of eyes on the scene, and upon seeing his two friends immediately jumped to his feet and embraced both of them so tightly that Hermione squeaked. When he finally drew back, his eyes looked watery and red, and his nose looked raw from sniffling. Charlie seemed to come to his senses then and stood up, his legs shaky.

"Harry…Hermione…nice weather…eh?" Charlie muttered before stumbling off into the other room, a worried-looking Arthur holding him by the arm to prevent him from falling.

Harry and Hermione cast Ron matching looks of concern.

"He's fine really," Ron mumbled. "Just a bit shaken, no worse than everyone else, you know…well, come on, you must be hungry—"

Just then, Ron burst into tears.

"Oh no!" Hermione yelled, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping his nose. "It's just—my mum would have made you some food…"

"Come on," Harry said firmly, taking Ron's arm, "let's go into the kitchen—Hermione and I will make something."

Ron didn't object as they made their way into the kitchen—Fred and George were sitting at the table, staring down at its woodwork as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. They glanced up when the three entered.

Harry nodded at the pair, as he wasn't sure how to issue the correct salutation; he had never seen the twins look so serious, and it rather unnerved him.

"What would you all like?" Hermione asked, sitting Ron down across from the twins and hurrying over to the stove. Ron shrugged.

"Fred? George?" she inquired.

"We're not hungry," they said.

"Rubbish." Hermione began to retrieve the pots and pans and assign duties to Harry, which he obeyed without a word.

"What's this?" Harry asked, although as soon as he picked it up, he knew; it was Molly's clock hand. George snatched it up and placed it in his pocket before Harry even knew that he had stood up.

"Keeps ending up on the floor…" he grumbled.

One hour later, dinner was ready, and the family plus Harry and Hermione sat around the table, barely eating and not at all speaking.

"Thank you, Hermione," Arthur said, raising a hot spoonful of carrot stew to his lips.

She smiled meekly and, upon muttering "_honestly Ronald_!", began to cut up his steak.

"Thank you Hermione," he said, his head falling onto her shoulder. She sighed and went back to eating.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had not left his bed for three days. On the morning of the funeral, no one could have asked for a more beautiful day; and of course, no one had.

Draco Malfoy got up and dressed in a plain black suit, brushed his sleek blonde hair, and grabbed a piece of fruit for breakfast.

"Go wake father up," Draco said to the house elf that scurried through the kitchen; the elf jumped in surprise, gave Draco a frightened look, and then opened its mouth to speak.

"Oh forget it," Draco said impatiently, rolling his eyes and throwing the half-eaten apple in the trash before going to do the task himself.

"Father," he snapped as he entered the master bedroom. "Father!"

Lucius made a slight grunt; all he could see of him was a cascade of blonde hair and a pale foot; the rest was buried in blankets. Draco tugged on the foot.

"The funeral is today, father. Wake up."

Lucius didn't budge.

"Father, the Ministry cars will be here soon."

"All right," Lucius croaked, kicking his son away.

"I'll see you downstairs," Draco muttered, and he sauntered out of the room.

* * *

The funeral turnout was as expected; along with the remaining Weasleys and Harry and Hermione, many others arrived, including Dumbledore, McGonogall, Lupin, Sirius, Snape, Tonks, Bagman, a few others from the Ministry, and of course Cornelius Fudge, who was flittering in between funerals; for Lucius and Draco were standing at a nearby service, bowing their heads in mourning at the grave of Narcissa.

When the service ended, and people started to spread out, Arthur walked over to Lucius.

"How are you doing?" he asked earnestly. Lucius gave him a stern look and sighed, but said nothing before hitting Draco in the leg with his cane.

"Go on, Draco," he said to his son, who grimaced and limped away, rubbing his shin.

When Draco was out of earshot, Lucius turned back to Arthur.

"I have matters to discuss with you, Arthur," he said. His usual sarcastic tone was gone, replaced by one of true agony.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"You must understand the humility of my situation. Despite my success at the Ministry—" (Arthur suppressed a smirk at this comment) "—I must confess to you that most of our family's wealth came from Narcissa's side of the family. It is quite regrettable for me to say that when Narcissa died, she left absolutely nothing to me—you must realize the shock of it all—Draco inherited everything."

Arthur blinked, not sure what to say. "Um…"

"This means that if I am to obtain any of her wealth, I must be married to a witch or wizard of equal or less fortune.

"Er…"

"Listen, I'll make this simple. You and I are in the same boat; I am determined to obtain the Black inheritance; you fit the bill. If you agree to marry me—"

"What—marry you?" Arthur asked, dumbfounded.

"—I will split the money 20/80. That will help you, won't it, Arthur? We both go home happy"

Arthur was speechless.

"Think about your children, Arthur, you need the money to raise them…"

"This is the most absurd thing I have ever heard—"

"Get back to me then," he said, and he sulked away.


	3. Chapter 3

My Two Dads

A fanfiction by Phoenix Donovan

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

* * *

Chapter Three

Hermione's thumb grazed Ron's and he tightened the grip on her hand. He was trying to hold back tears, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. She glanced up at Harry, who already had a trickle of wetness streaming down from his bright green eyes. Of course, this was probably nearly as hard on Harry as it was on Ron. Mrs. Weasley had been like a mother to Harry, the second mother that Harry had to lose…

"Come on," Ron said, his voice rough and choked. He cleared his throat. "Let's get away from here."

The three of them, Ron still holding onto Hermione, silently left the grave and the crowd of wizards and trudged up the hillside. The sunlight had left, covered by morose clouds that left the setting gray and cold. Ron thought this was more appropriate, he hadn't appreciated that the world could still be sunny and beautiful on a day of such ugliness.

"Hey," the redhead said, stopping in his tracks and looking into the distance. "What the bloody hell is Lucius talking to my father for?"

Harry peered over at the two and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said, leading them toward a great willow. They sat beneath its shade. Ron placed his head in the crook of Hermione's neck, and although he made no noise, she could feel the wet of his tears. Just then, droplets of rainwater fell through the tree's great branches. The clouds had burst, crying onto the funeral.

"Damn rain."

"Did you say something, Ron?" Hermione asked.

Ron sniffed and looked up at her. "What?"

Hermione looked over at Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I heard it too."

"Well, you're not the only ones under this ruddy tree," they heard again; this time the voice was distinguishable.

"Malfoy?" Harry inquired, standing up and rounding the tree. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the other side, head against the trunk, eyes closed, letting the rain water prick his pale skin.

"Are you going to stare all day, Potter?" Draco spat. Harry sneered and shook his head, then went back to his friends.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get going."

Hermione gave Harry a look.

"What?"

"Ron isn't the only one who's lost someone," Hermione said.

"Oh, Hermione," Ron said suddenly, and she and Harry were both shocked to see that a small smiled had appeared on his freckly face. "You can't be implying that we be nice to Malfoy?"

"I'm just saying that...oh, nevermind then." She stood up, brushed off her skirt, and stood with her arms crossed, her eyes blazing.

"You're so pretty when you're mad, Hermione," Ron said. Hermione tried to suppress a grin.

"Come on, then," she snapped, and the three of them walked back through the rain to meet Ron's father and the rest of the family.

---

Arthur had a dream that night. He was sitting in a vast field with pink daisies—Molly's favorite flower. He felt so happy, laying in the sun, his wife's hand in his. But then something strange happened. He heard a low chuckle, a man's chuckle, and when he turned to look at his wife, he saw someone who made his mouth drop. White blonde hair and icy blue eyes—Lucius Malfoy.

He sat straight up in bed.

"Bill?"

His oldest son was peering into the room, a fearful expression on his face.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Uh…yeah…what? Why? Are you okay?"

"You were screaming."

Arthur sighed loudly. Bill was hesitant only for a moment before he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. The two men sat in silence together for a long time. They didn't have to say anything—just knowing that they were there for each other was what mattered. That was when Arthur knew—he would do anything for Bill. He would do anything for any of his children.

Whatever it took.

"Bill."

"Yeah dad."

"There's something I need to tell you."

---

Lucius was sitting in the den when he heard a noise in the fireplace. He peered up from his book to see a tall ginger haired man standing there, covered with ashes. Gingerly, the man stepped out into the den.

The two men stared at each other for a solid minute.

"Hello Arthur," Lucius finally said, smirking and setting down his book. "You're looking well."

"Lucius," Arthur muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Arthur, this is awkward for both of us. I suggest that if you have something to say, go ahead and get it out of the way."

Arthur looked into Lucius's eyes then and something flared in his chest.

"I accept your proposal," Arthur said.

Lucius looked taken aback for a moment, but then he stood up, his catlike eyes twinkling mischievously. He walked toward Arthur and kneeled before him.

"Lucius, what are you doing?"

"If I'm going to propose to you, I'm going to do it the right way."

Arthur stared down in slight disgust and thorough amazement as Lucius took a ring out of his pocket and slid it onto his finger.

"Arthur Weasley, will you marry me?"

Arthur gulped. "Yes, Lucius, I will."


End file.
